Let us now consider the metamorphoses of the grub; let us strive to obtain the adult form, so as to determine the nature of our subject, which has hitherto remained nameless. The rearing presents no difficulty whatever. I install my plump larvæ, straight from the pine-tree, in flower-pots of ordinary size. I provide them with a goodly heap of scraps from their old home, the tree-stump, choosing by preference the central layers, which have rotted into soft flakes of touchwood.
The grubs creep in and out of the well-stocked refectory at their own sweet will; they crawl lazily up and down or stand still, gnawing all the time. I need pay no further attention to them, provided the victuals remain fresh. With this rough and ready treat I have kept them in first-rate condition for a couple of years. My boarders have all the happy tranquillity that comes from an untroubled digestion; and they know nothing of home-sickness.
In the first week of July, I catch sight of a grub wiggling vigorously, turning round and round. This exercise is to give suppleness in [[185]]view of the coming moult. The violent gymnastics take place in a large apartment of no special structure, without cement or glaze. The big grub, by rolling its rump to and fro, has simply pushed back all around it the powdery ligneous matter produced by its crumbled or even digested provisions. It has compressed and felted it together; and, as I have taken care to keep the material suitably moist, it sets into a fairly solid and remarkably smooth wall. It is a stucco made of wood-pulp.
A few days later, in stiflingly hot weather, the grub sheds its skin. The moult is effected at night and I am therefore unable to witness it; but next morning I have the newly-divested clothing at my disposal. The skin has been split open on the thorax up to the first segment, which has released itself, bringing the head with it. Through this narrow dorsal fissure, the nymph has issued by alternately stretching and contracting, so that the cast skin forms a crumpled bag, which is almost intact.
On the day of its deliverance, the nymph is a magnificent white, whiter than alabaster, whiter than ivory. Add a slight transparency to the substance of our superfine stearin [[186]]candles and you will have something nearly resembling that budding flesh in process of crystallization.
The arrangement of the limbs is faultlessly symmetrical. The folded legs make one think of arms crossed upon the breast in a sacerdotal attitude. Our painters have no better symbol for representing mystic resignation to the hand of destiny. Joined together, the tarsi form two long, knotted cords that lie along the nymph’s sides like a priest’s stole. The wings and wing-cases, fitting by pairs into a common sheath, are flattened into wide paddles like flakes of talc. In front, the antennæ are bent into elegant crosiers and then slip under the knees of the first pair of legs and rest their tips on the wing-paddles. The sides of the corselet project slightly, like a head-dress recalling the spreading white caps of our French nuns.
My children, when I show them this wonderful creature, find a very happy phrase to describe it:
“It’s a little girl making her first communion,” they say, “a little girl in her white veil.”
What a lovely gem, if it were permanent and incorruptible! An artist seeking for a [[187]]decorative subject would find an exquisite model here. And this gem moves. At the least disturbance, it fidgets about on its back, very much like a Gudgeon laid high and dry on the river-bank. Feeling itself in danger, the terrified creature strives to make itself terrifying.
Next day, the nymph is clouded with a faint smoky tint. The work of a final transformation begins and is continued for a fortnight. At last, towards the end of July, the nymphal garment is reduced to shreds, torn by the movements of the stretching and waving limbs. The full-grown insect appears, clad in rusty-red and white. The colour soon becomes darker and gradually changes to black. The insect has completed its development.